I grew up on the hard courts of Southern California, Over time, the sun-drenched paint starts to flake, the grain turns skating-rink slick and the surface fades like an old man after three gin and tonics. There’s about a five year window between lay-down and re-do, when players can bang upon the cement rectangle and experience quick points, ground strokes that sit waist high and some serious joint pain. After that, it’s time to call the resurfacers.
While hard courts prevail across the lower forty-eight, this nation lacks the climate to make clay courts a staple of our tennis community. Next to majestic purple mountains and amber waves of grain, red clay is about as popular as today’s political candidates.
Thankfully, clay court season is now upon us, which is to say, we’re going to Europe. A few weeks ago, the owner of this website, 10sballs_com, called to suggest I head to Madrid to write about the ATP event. She’s sending me across the Atlantic to watch tennis, to cover the clay, to let you see the tournament through my eyes. I’ll eat tapas and curse in Castillian Spanish. There will be bullfights and too many smoking Spaniards. Perhaps I’ll even grab a photo of the championship trophy which Rafa, Roger, Novak, and Andy have held reign over since 2008. One thing is for sure, the tennis will be great.
Madrid’s red dust is special. Easy on the knees but brutal on the lungs, the dirt presents new challenges for players. Points require one more shot. We see shots hit behind players in hopes of wrong footing an opponent. We see higher-arced groundstrokes and a season’s worth of drop shots. We see wars of attrition and physical fatigue. There are red socks and dirty t-shirt backs and towels that look like used toilet paper. There are twelve-foot long skid marks and more names in the draw that end with vowels. There are teams of well-tanned people who come out and sweep and water the court in between sets and then sit head-shakingly by as the athletes destroy their clean canvas. Sometimes, the wind kicks up and spectators get swirls of dust in their eyes. Too, the tennis balls fade like autumn leaves, from tightly-wound yellow to a fluffy coral color. The point is, a lot of things are different on the clay, and that’s why I’m going to write about it. Stay tuned.
Topics: 10sballs_com, Clay tennis, Craig Cignarelli, Madrid, Sports, Tennis